Risk vs Reward
by shadowninja2000
Summary: Under normal circumstances, they would've never met. Seperated by country, and language, not to mention one couldn't talk and the other wouldn't unless absolutely necessary. When Sire and Yami met on Alfheim online, they never pictured pairing up to conquer Sword Art Online, and later becoming more than just gaming partners. But these weren't normal times, were they? T for violence
1. Chapter 1: Hurt vs Healing

**Me: *grin* Hi everyone! The Tiny Foxtail and I made a pact a couple months ago that we'd eventually have a collab for every anime we've watched together. SO! A Sword Art Online collab was in order!**

**Yami: *hiding under a desk***

**Me: So, the bold is Yami's thoughts. She has some..issues...so this will be as detailed as I can make it!**

**Yami: *glares at me from under the desk***

**Me: ANYWAYS! Well, SAO is a flat-out A-MA-ZING anime, and I may not be able to do it justice, but we're going to try anyways! So, here it is: Risk vs. Reward, a collaboration between myself (shadowninja2000) and The Tiny Foxtail! Read and reviiiew!**

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**Yami's POV**

"C'mon, Yami! Mom says it's time for breakfast!" I pulled my covers up over my head to block out my friend's voice. There was no way I was getting up for just any reason that day. The end of the world, maybe. But for some breakfast then some forced therapy? No way in hell.

"You can't stay under there forever, Yami!" he whined. I rolled over. **_That's what_**** you **_**t******__hink_. I am fully capable of staying under here for the rest of my life. Or at least for three more days. I smiled internally at my snark.**_ Now, if only I could actually_** **talk,**_ **all would be well.**_ I sighed and pulled my covers tighter around myself, curling into a ball. It was the two year anniversary of my father's suicide; the three year anniversaries of the deaths of the rest of my family were all within the following week. I wasn't going to get up unless he dragged me out of bed. Unfortunately, that's just what he had in mind.

"Come...ON, Yami!" he shouted, yanking my covers off from over me. I closed my eyes against the harsh sunlight filtering in through my shut blinds and scrunched up further into a ball. I shook my head and buried my face in my pillowcase.

Hundreds of kids had died playing Sword Art Online in the past couple years; around 4,000 of them, in fact. Three were related to me:my mother, my little sister, and my older brother. After I heard about it, how the psychopath creator had not made a logout button, and when someone died in the game, they died in real life; I got violently sick. Migraines, vomiting, a super-sensitivity to light and sound, and lots of blood later, I was hospital-bound. I wasn't allowed out for weeks, classified as "a fragile case". I guess they were worried about me going off and killing myself because I was in a fragile state. Turns out, it wasn't me they should have been worried about. My idiot of a father decided he was going to kill both of us the very day I'd been released into his care from the hospital. He poured gasoline all over the floor of our house, filling the house with nauseating gasoline fumes, and then dropped a match on the floor. I'd been outside, walking along the edge of a stream about a mile from our house, when the house blew itself and my father sky-high. It took four hours to get me to stop sobbing hysterically and vomiting once the police told me.

I was sent back to the hospital for another long treatment. They kept me there for a couple months, under the basis that I was "in extremely unstable condition", as well as "slightly psychopathic", and "perhaps deranged enough to...attempt suicide as well". They neglected to mention that the nurses often left me with dozens of tubes sticking out of various parts of my body and if I'd removed even one or two of them, I'd be dead. Honestly, I knew none of it was really my fault, but that didn't stop me from sinking so deep into the depths of depression that I refused to eat or sleep. I slipped into a comatose state, stuck somewhere between reality and a horrible, bloody fantasy. It was actually a short stretch of coma, just a couple weeks, yet still, when I woke, the doctors were relieved. One even had to excuse himself because he had started to weep. I could've told them I wasn't going to try and kill myself like my brainless idiot of a father had, but when I tried to, I couldn't. I wanted to, but my brain couldn't seem to get my mouth and voice box to cooperate and make words.

That was nearly two years ago; I haven't been able to talk since. Everyone's told me it's temporary...**_What's so temporary about hardly being able to talk at all for TWO YEARS?!_** I've asked all my therapists that question, with the time frames varying, but none of them have had an answer for me. My latest, a young woman in her thirties, doesn't even look at me anymore. She's classified me as a hopeless case and refuses to work with me, so I just bring a book along and read. Her business partner likes me, though. His name is Mr. Kayabo, and he's really nice. He gives me candy and tells me about what's happening out there in the world. He talks to me like I'm a human, and alive, not just the traumatized shell of a what used to be a very happy, energetic, talkative girl. He reads me the newspaper sometimes, even after I wrote that I could read it myself. He laughed and said he felt like I paid more attention when I was being read to.

A hard yank on my arm brought me out of my thoughts, and I looked up from my pillowcase. Kettei glared at me from his new position on the floor and I buried my head again.** _No way, boy._**

"Moooom! Yami's not getting up!" he hollered down the stairs. He didn't get a response, so he jumped onto the banister and rode it down to the living room, shouting for his mom the whole way. I pulled my covers back over myself quickly, letting out a sigh as the heat washed over me. I snuggled back down under my covers, a victorious smile playing on my lips. I yawned, mentally noting to ask for a lock next time Mrs. Evans asked if I wanted anything when she went out to the stores and such. My head sank down onto my pillow and my eyelids fluttered shut.

Almost as quickly as I had closed my eyes, it felt like someone was shaking me awake. It was gentler than Kettei's incessant shaking, but I rolled away from it anyways. A chuckle came from the person trying to get me awake and the pressure of the hand was removed from my shoulder, instead going to rubbing my arm.

"Come on, Yami. There's no use in starving yourself to death. Mom's made some of those American-style waffles you liiike," the boy's voice teased quietly. My eyes snapped open and my body went rigid. American waffles? I sniffed the air cautiously. American waffles! I threw off my covers and ran over to my dresser. I gathered some clothes and rushed to the upstairs bathroom, throwing my pajamas off and the clothes on as I went. I brushed through my tangled mess of dark hair, then braided it back in a normal style. I glanced at myself in the mirror, noting with a pain that my cheekbones were more prominent than a couple weeks ago, then ran downstairs. I tripped over one stair and went tumbling down, to my immense displeasure, but it wasn't a huge deal. It happened almost every morning, so the Evanses were used to me crashing down the stairs by that point. I heard a short bout of laughter from Kettei that was quickly hushed as I walked into the dining room. I grinned when I spotted the American waffles, and grabbed a plate and some syrup to drown them in.

"No fair! How come he can get her down quicker than a rocket on steroids but I can't even get her to look at me!" Kettei whined. I rolled my eyes and dug into my waffles. I heard a soft chuckle come from beside me.

"I keep telling you, Kettei. I'm just magic," the older boy, Akira, teased, his tone retaining its regular softness. Kettei blew his black bangs out of his face irritatedly and stuck his tongue out at his older brother. I watched their antics intently before I began an experiment in my mind.**_ An insult from Kettei to Akira, then a punch thrown and dodged. A sigh from Mrs. Evans, then an eye roll, and Kettei jumps across the table._** I watched in an amused silence as the events happened in perfect order almost the instant after I'd thought about them. Kettei leaped across the table with a war cry, landing on Akira and toppling them both backwards. Soon, both boys were fighting on the ground, rolling around and hitting each other all over the place. Mrs. Evans gave me an exasperated look then looked at her husband.

Mr. Evans was a giant man, at six foot six, and he towered over everybody in the family, especially me. He rose from his chair and walked over to the squabbling boys. I felt a smile tug at my mouth; I knew what was coming next. He stooped down and picked up both boys by the collars of their shirts, heaving them almost effortlessly into the air. He said nothing, just glared at the two boys, and soon they were silent. I returned to my waffles. The rest of the day would be uneventful; I would be forced to go meet with my speech therapist while the boys got to work on their schoolwork and kendo, I would return home after two or three unsuccessful hours of trying to get me to speak, and overall, no progress would be made. That happened every other day, every week, for the nearly two years since I'd been adopted into the Evans family. I didn't like the repetition, but no one cared what I wanted because they wanted me to talk again. I'd notified them that they were wasting their money, but they insisted on my therapy, so I kept quiet about it from then on.

"Hey Yami, you comin' to my kendo practice today?" I looked up at Akira, puzzled. Then, I remembered: it was Thursday. Akira had taken to bringing me to his kendo sparring matches on Thursdays about four weeks prior. A faint smile graced my face and I nodded. His face split into a boyish grin and a wave of sky blue hair floated into his eyes. He blew it back into place.

"So, I'll pick you up from your therapy and we'll go straight there, right?" I just stared at Akira. He knew the tradition, so why did he question it every time? It puzzled me to no end, before I remembered that not everyone had my photographic memory. I nodded slowly, clearly conveying that his statement was right but I considered him an idiot for even asking. He ruffled my hair with a grin and a light laugh.

"Alright, doll. I'll pick you up in a couple hours," Akira said. He stood, cleared his spot at the table, and walked out to his car so he could drive to his school. Kettei quickly followed and I stared down at my plate. **_Sometimes, I wish I could just be normal. The therapists tell me there's nothing wrong with me, but if that's true, why can't I talk?_** I knew that answer already. The doctors called it "post-traumatic stress disorder", and they said it was common for soldiers in bloody wars to have the condition when they got off the battlefield. I'd looked it up when I got back to the Evans' house and found a lot of American names with some American letters beside them, claiming they could help with PTSD, the acronym for my condition. I tried contacting one, but he didn't speak Japanese and I didn't speak at all, so we had a bit of difficulty communicating.

I finished my breakfast and cleared my spot, then trudged out to the living room to wait for Mrs. Evans. I was sixteen, but I didn't have a license, so I had to wait until the Missus was ready to take me. Normally it took about an hour, so I had time to watch some news before she was ready. I was looking around for the remote when a special gleam caught my eye. I curiously walked towards it. My eyes widened in surprise. **_Is that...No! It couldn't be! _**I clasped my cheek in my hand as I slowly walked towards the near-foreign object. _**A...A NerveGear! I haven't seen one for ages! **_I dropped down to a crouch, balanced on my toes, and ran my hands over the cold, metallic surface of the helmet. This thing was the source of all my pain, and yet I was oddly fascinated by it. Endless possibilities in a virtual world that was completely computer-animated. It would be like a dream come true, especially for a hacker like Akira. **_It's no wonder he would have one, but why haven't I noticed it before? _**I shook my head; he'd probably not played while I was around. **_I bet his mother told him not to. It's fine. I'm sure that world is so much better than this one. _**I sighed and removed my hands from the NerveGear, setting them on my lap.

"Yami-chan, it's time to go! We're running a little late as is, and your therapi-oh." I looked up into the green eyes of Mrs. Evans and her hand flew up to cover her mouth. "Oh. Oh, Yami, I'm so sorry. I told them to put their toys away when they were done! I'll just take that..." she murmured, reaching for me, for the NerveGear. My eyes widened. **_She's going to take it away! I'll never see it again! _**I swiped the NerveGear off the table and hugged it against my chest, tucking it between my knees and resting my chin on it possessively. I glared up at the woman trying to take this wonderful piece of my history away from me, and it felt like she was trying to take the souls of my siblings and mother. I wouldn't have it; I hugged the NerveGear even closer to my chest. Mrs. Evans pulled back her hand, looking at me with confusion.

"It's fine Yami-chan, I'm not going to get rid of it," she said softly. I shook my head. **_Mama...Gabriel...Addy...dead, dead, dead, because of this. _**I looked down at the NerveGear. **_You should want it to be destroyed, you should want it to burn and die, just like your father. It's the reason they're dead! Throw it! Let her have it! Let her destroy it like it destroyed your life! _**My grip tightened on the helmet and I glowered at it with a ferocity I'd never felt before. Images rushed through my mind: Mama, a sword stuck through her abdomen; Gabriel, being executed for not paying his taxes to the Army; Addy, her head rolling on the ground as the monster swung its horrible battle axe. **_Dead, dead, dead, all dead!_**

**_It's not the helmet's fault. It's not the game's fault. The game had a wretched creator, a man so far removed from humanity he created the game solely to watch little ones die. It wasn't a personal thing. It was genocide, a massacre, mass murder, the wildest dreams of a lunatic. _**I felt the helmet roll out of my grasp as I toppled over. I grabbed the table absently, saving myself from the worst of the fall. I suddenly felt a pressure on my chest and sucked in air in a gasp. It felt like all the air was being squeezed out of my lungs, like I was underwater.

**_All it's fault! _**I clasped my hands over my ears.

**_No. Not the helmet's fault, the creator._**

**_All his fault! _**My eyes widened, but I couldn't see anything besides murky black. I squeezed them shut instead.

**_You can't get to the creator. Not revenge, Yami, compassion. You know what insanity is. You know what it feels like._**

**_Not that kind! The kinds that murders senselessly? Get him! _**The voices were arguing again. I pressed my palms harder against my ears but that only made it louder, along with the ever-present beating of my heart that was noticeable now.

_Thump, thump_

**_Your insanity was caused by his. His must have been caused by someone, or something._**

_**Doesn't matter! You're not the same! Have to make him pay!** _My heartbeat was getting louder. Louder, louder, louder...

_Thump, thump_

**_Can't._**

**_Have to! _**I was numb all over. I couldn't feel anything at all, but I knew I was still alive. I could hear the voices, and my heart. As long as I can hear my heart...

_Thump, thump_

**_Can't!_**

_Thump, thump_

**_Must!_**

_Thump, thump_

_"Yami!" _I opened my eyes to lots of light and the rich smell of blood. I heard a long exhale and felt my body being crushed in a hug. "Oh, Yami! Are you okay?" I looked up at Mrs. Evans, who was looking down at me with pain. I realized I was trembling, and looked down to see various gashes spurting new blood from my left arm. I managed a strangled whimper and cradled my left arm. I stared back at Mrs. Evans. My eyes flicked around the room for a clock. I found one. **_8:40? Ten minutes. My arm hurts. My arm hurts BADLY. _**I looked down at my arm, then up at Mrs. Evans. She jumped up and ran somewhere else in the house to get some bandages.

_"Deep breaths, Yami. It'll help calm you down. Breathe in...then out. In...then out." _My nurse's words echoed in my head. I licked my lips and took several deep breaths.** _Wait. Where's my heartbeat? Am I still alive? I can't hear my heart! I CAN'T HEAR IT! _**My breathing intensified and I moved a little. A pang of pain shot up my arm, and I choked. I shifted slowly into an upright position and tried the calming exercise again, my lips parted slightly as I did.

_**In, out. In, out. In, out. In, out. You are okay. You are alive. Shouldn't be alive. Need to be alive. Not alive. Alive in the sense that you are breathing, but not **_**actually living.** I sucked in breath, the let it out slowly, trying to shut my mind down. Mrs. Evans came back soon with some bandages. She took my arm and cleaned the wounds with an iodine compound to make sure it didn't get infected. I watched silently with horrified elation as the wounds went from red, to pink, then back to red again. Mrs. Evans applied the bandages gently, carefully, so as not to hurt me. After I was cleaned up, Mrs. Evans helped me to my feet. She looked at me pityingly, stroked my cheek sadly, then strode out the door. I followed, hugging my injured arm to my chest tightly.

My therapist wasn't in that day, but Mrs. Evans didn't know that. I couldn't exactly tell her, though, so I figured if she wanted to know, she'd find out by calling. She didn't call, so she didn't know when she dropped me off that I'd be alone for the next three hours. I didn't suppose it really mattered. I did what I normally did; snuggled down on the woman's couch with my book, and read. I successfully completed my book during my three hours of silence; I was unsatisfied with the ending. I had just a couple more minutes before Akira would be there to get me, so I just laid down on the couch. I crossed one arm over my chest and let the other one dangle off the edge of the couch listlessly. I stayed like that for the rest of my time: no people, no thoughts, just an odd sort of peace.

A car horn honked from the parking lot and I jumped a couple feet, my limbs flailing out to all sides. I gave the door a glare and gathered up my book and bookmark. I walked quickly to the parking lot, and spotted Akira's luxury vehicle a couple spots away from where I'd been standing. A smile played on my lips as I walked to his car, book clutched tightly to my chest. I climbed in on the passenger's side and he put the car into reverse.

"So, how'd it go?" Akira asked, looking out the back window. I shrugged noncommittally. _**Better than normal. I finished my book today.**_

"Oh, you finished Eden. Did you like it?" he asked once we were out of the parking lot. I made a face. "I told you you were going to hate the ending. A new one's coming out next month," Akira said. I looked over at him curiously. He glanced at my face and chuckled.

"I'll get it for your birthday present. Would you like that?" he asked. I smiled and nodded. An easy smile graced Akira's face and he laughed quietly. "Thought you would. Oh, yeah. I meant to apologize." I looked over at Akira, an eyebrow raised. _**For what?**_

Almost as if he read my mind: "For this morning. Mom told me you found my NerveGear and it set off a spasm. You're not really hurt, are you?" he asked. I shook my head. Akira let out a sigh of relief. "That's good. If that'd caused a relapse, I'd've had to burn that stupid thing," Akira said seriously. It was then I realized we weren't going the way to Akira's dojo; we were headed home. I looked at him, confused. I pointed out the windshield. _**Why are we going this way, Akira?**_

"Ah, I see you've noticed," Akira said. His eyes were twinkling with mischief. "I've got something I wanna show you at home. It's a new game that came out almost six months ago. It's called ALfhiem; heard of it?" he asked. I shook my head. Akira grinned and increased the speed.

"Good. This'll be fun then!"

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**Me: WHOO! First chapter! Super dark, but who cares! Review, please!**


	2. Chapter 2: Leaving vs Loving

**Me: Hi everyone! Foxtail's on a roll, she said the other chapter for ****Fears and Promises**** (our other collab, if you like Fairy Tail and a damn cute OCxOC pairing) will be here soon. Now, before we begin, this is a very important author's note, so if you've never read one before, let this be the one you read.**

**So, a couple days ago, Foxtail and I made a deal to each other that we would use one rather obscure word per chapter from now on in all our collabs. I will bold and asterisk that word in each chapter so you know what it is and can look it up afterwords. Hah, no, I'm kidding. I'll put the dictionary definition in my ending A/N, so congrats, you get another A/N at the end! ANYWAYS! So, there's a second part of that agreement: for every word the authoress finds, the authoress that wrote the chapter must write a oneshot. We do have rules for this, and she will put them up on her home page if you want to look at them because you want to request a oneshot. Although, just fair warning, the request will be handled by the person that receives the review first, which will probably be me, unless you specifically request Foxtail or shoot her a PM.**

**Wow, I rambled a lot. Okay, I think that's it! Have fun reading and drop us a review at the end! Thanks!**

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**Sire's POV**

I craned my neck, squinting as I looked up at the World Tree. It was huge, to say the least. I had heard a lot about this tree over the months I had played Alfheim Online. I had dismissed most of the offhanded comments I had overheard from other players as myth, however as I gazed up at its staggering size I realized that the visual descriptions they had given of it were spot on.

Did it grant unlimited flight to the first race to reach the top? I had no idea. Most of the players seemed dead set on the fact that if they were the first to the top, they'd be able to fly forever. But even after months and months of the game being out, no one had come even close.

I had heard stories about what the inside was like. Bombarded by computer generated enemies, stabbed almost instantly, and barely able to get even a hundred feet off the ground. No one I had ever talked to had even come close to the top. It seemed like an impossible feat, and personally, I had no idea why someone would attempt it.

Sure unlimited flight piqued the interest of some, drove some to insane measures, or even caused them to try, over and over again to reach the top, failing each time, and trying again in a show of dedication. But for someone like me, it seemed menial and pointless. I could fly now, why would I want to fly for a longer span of time? I had never once reached the limit of my wings, and so I saw no need for something better.

I held a hand up to shield my eyes from the sun. The World Tree's curving and swirling white branches held a mystical aura about them. Something almost pulled you to them, as if they were just asking to be touched, pulling you into their grasp to then throw you to the ground again.

I shook my head and sighed, turning on my heel and stalking back into town. Silly. Everyone who tried to conquer that tree was just plain silly. Or stupid. I didn't know which.

My boots clicked on the stone beneath me as I stomped back to more familiar streets. That was it: my trip to the World Tree I had vowed to take for almost a month now. Just as uneventful as I had imagined it would be. I had no plan to challenge it, but I _did _want to see it before I left this game for good. It was the main attraction after all.

I had started Alfheim Online after all the hype it had received over in Japan. Apparently it used the same servers as the infamous Sword Art Online, and offered one major detail that any visual reality video game hadn't offered before: flight. That minor detail made me curious, and finally I had broken down and bought the game to try out.

It wasn't common for someone in America to play games using the AmuSphere technology. In fact, it wasn't common for anyone outside of Japan to use it. Only roughly around 500,000 people even owned one, and almost 95% of them were in Japan. But after hearing about the technology, I was beyond eager to try it out, and I had been hooked ever since.

But after a few months of trying out the game I had become bored. It wasn't based off of a level system, nor did it have some set of tasks for you to complete to finish the game. Instead you just basked in the virtual world, meandering at your own pace and taking up quests as you saw fit. Sure some of the quests I had taken up had proven to be a challenge, and a bit of fun, but I could only take so much of the monotony before I went insane. So, I had decided before I abandoned Alfheim for good, I'd visit the World Tree, the very center of this world.

My eyes flicked up to the sky, slowly adjusting to the light as I tried to remember which way I'd come. South, I'd come from the south. I nodded, turning to my left and heading down the cobblestone streets of Alne. It was a beautiful and bustling city, however even _it _didn't intrigue me enough to stay even another minute. It was official. I was done with Alfheim. It was time to move on.

The minute I had made it to the outskirts of the capital I skipped, letting out a small breath of air and focusing on the muscles in my back. My wings responded perfectly, just as they usually did and fluttered out to the sides, launching me into the air. They'd hold out just long enough to get home.

I relaxed, letting my eyes wander over the landscape below, as it slowly morphed from city streets, to grass, and then to the mighty Alpines that led to my territory. The scenery in this game was beyond perfection, and I figured maybe that'd be the one thing I missed. However getting a new game, and with it a new challenge would be just what I needed.

My mind strayed, letting my body do the work as I contemplated the games. There were very few to choose from, as this technology was still in its youth. Sword Art Online had been the first, and had been an utter disaster. Alfheim Online came next and was the visual reality's second debut into the world. After a few months, as people began to be less hesitant with the technology, more players joined, and slowly more game titles did too. Most of them were small, uneventful, and easy to complete, but still, they were something.

My eyes focused again and I adjusted my flight pattern, ducking underneath a cloud.

It still baffled me that all these things were artificially created. The sky, the sun, the buildings, the landscape, everything. It all seemed so real. "_Man, those Japanese people really have their shit together." _I thought. I doubted America was even within a century of creating some sort of technology like this.

My thoughts continued the entire way down to Imp territory, slowly mulling over my next choice. I passed countless miles of ground and mountains, still taking in the breathtaking views before I spotted the earthy tones and the round houses of the Imps. All in all I had picked a rather useless race. I had gone on whim when I had registered and in the end had picked one of the weakest ones. I would've much rathered being a Salamander or Leprechaun. They always seemed to be the most suited for battle.

The Imp territory _was _one of the more beautiful in my mind. All the houses, shops, and buildings made from the earth, looking sort of like windowed huts. The light natural glow of lights passing through the window. It was by far the smallest territory, and everyone seemed to know everyone.

I made a sideways glance at my flight timer and saw I was only a few minutes away from depleting my flight time. Yep, I had estimated perfectly.

I leaned backwards, my wings protesting as the breeze picked up. Slowly I lowered myself down, relishing the last moments of flight. They'd be my last after all.

I landed in one of the larger grassy openings between buildings and jogged to a stop, allowing my wings to dissipate. There was just one more thing I wanted to do here in Alfheim before I abandoned it for good. And the pub located in front of me was the location for it. I walked forward, barely taking notice of the large statue I passed. It was the one thing the Imps looked up to. Quite honestly I didn't know what it even stood for, or who the statue depicted, but as the days droned on in this world I found myself somehow becoming attached to it as well. It was a pretty impressive statue after all.

I pushed open the rounded wooden door to the only bar in Imp territory. A bell rung as I walked in and I couldn't help but let a smile twitch at the side of my mouth. That sound made everything seem a little more homey. Throughout my time in Alfheim I had spent more time here than anywhere else. It was where I went to talk with fellow players, where I went to gather information about any intriguing quests, and most importantly, where I went to drink and take a load off.

"Oy! Sire! Nice to see ya boy! What can I do for ya?" The **pyknic*** bartender sauntered out of the back room and grinned at me, his apron stained from the thousands of meals he had cooked for patrons over the months. Eron, the barkeep had been one of my more pleasant acquaintances in Alfheim. He himself was from Canada, and so we were able to relate to one another, being around this many foreigners all the time. Even though the built in system in the AmuSphere made all the languages universal inside the game, sometimes I felt a little ostracized. They did act a little different than I did after all.

I scraped out one of the wooden stools at the bar and plopped down, looking over my shoulder to realize I was the only person present. It was rare to see a day in this bar without at least ten customers. "A beer please," I grunted.

"Hah!" Eron chuckled, patting his belly like I had told him a joke. "We don't serve alcohol in this here bar until night. You know that, boy," he said, leaning forward on his elbows and giving me an amused grin.

I huffed. Of course I knew this, Alfheim couldn't have a bunch of drunken idiots staggering around during the day after all. Kids played this game. "I know, Eron. I was hoping you'd make an exception since I'm leaving today."

He shook his head animatedly. "Nope, no can do, sonny. You'll have to come back later if you want yer beer." Without another word he shoved himself off of the counter, sashaying back into the kitchen, the sounds of cooks busy at work blasting through the opening before suctioning quiet.

Great. Turns out this _wouldn't _be my last trip to Alfheim. I swiped my left arm down hastily to pull up my menu. Figures the one thing I wanted to do just had to be a problem. I clicked the 'log out' button and closed my eyes. At least when I logged back in I'd be right in my seat, ready to take that beer.

When my eyes fluttered open again, I was back in the real world, the dark tones and familiar smells of my room lulling me into a sense of security. I sighed, slowly reaching up and unhooking the AmuSphere from my head and setting it down on my nightstand. I sat up, blinking my eyes to clear them before slowly standing up from my bed. I could use this time to figure out what game I wanted to try out next.

I sighed, walking over to my bedroom door and letting myself into the hallway. I slowly trudged toward the kitchen. The house was completely quiet. That must mean Father was still at work. I was thankful, I didn't want to hear his complaints about the gaming now. I was tired of hearing it from him.

I rounded the corner and padded onto the tile floor of our small kitchen. I pulled open the fridge door, the light flickering to life and momentarily blinding me. I groaned. The house was so dark, why didn't anyone open a window every once in a while? I snatched a half-eaten sandwich out of the fridge's depths and let the door shut.

I mumbled to myself about living in a morgue before dropping the sandwich on the table and opening the curtains to the small window above the sink. I flinched, waiting for the blinding sun to make its appearance, but instead I was met with a starry sky. My eyes flicked to the small clock on the counter. 6:57. The bar in Alfheim would be open at 7:00. Eron, that bastard, three minutes till he would've served me my beer.

I rolled my eyes, unable to keep the smirk off of my face. He was annoying, but amusing. I scraped out the chair to our small kitchen table and plopped down, picking up the sandwich and taking a large bite out of it. I had left a gaming magazine on the table in the morning and it still sat there, waiting to be looked through. What game would I choose next? I hoped there was a new title that sounded intriguing. A fighting game, hopefully.

I flipped through the pages, my eyes scanning for the section with the virtual games. It was always near the back, and only had a very small section devoted to it, since once again hardly anyone in the United States played with that kind of technology.

I found the small box full of new game titles soon enough and began to read. There were only two. The first advertised had girly pink flowers all over it, with dogs and cats everywhere, their eyes sparkling in an unnatural way. The description said it was a game mainly for girls, but if you were a guy you could play it too, and be surrounded by females. I shivered at the thought.

Maybe it was because I had grown up in a house of all men, or maybe it was because I went to an all-boys school, but for some reason I just really didn't feel comfortable around women. They were so different, so time consuming, so needy, and so… girly. Women were a foreign concept to me and I couldn't imagine anything I'd want less than to be surrounded by them.

I shook my head and swallowed the last bite of the sandwich, turning my attention to the second game. _Basilisk online_, the add said, based upon the battlefield. It really didn't have much of a plotline or a level system, just mindless fighting. Now _that _was my kind of game.

For my very short period of time in active duty for the U.S. Marines there had been nothing I enjoyed more than combat. Most of the men I served with were willing to fight, but preferred not to. I was the opposite. There was nothing more invigorating and rejuvenating than serving my country by putting my life on the line.

I shook my head of the thoughts and dogeared the page. When I finally left Alfheim for good, I'd be sure to pick up Basilisk online. It sounded like fun.

I glanced over at the clock briefly, 7:01, perfect timing. I brushed off my pants and stood up, stalking back down the hallway to my room. It'd just be a quick stop to Alfheim, and hopefully I'd get it in before Father came home. Last time that'd happened he'd ripped the visor off of me, scaring me half to death. I had a splitting headache for a good week after that and I sure as hell didn't want that to happen again.

I closed my door behind me and sat down on my bed, grasping the AmuSphere and placing it over my eyes. I laid back on my bed and sighed. This was it. "Link Start," I said calmly.

Everything flickered, and it felt like my entire body shook as I was pulled back into Alfheim's realm of being. I was roughly deposited back on my barstool in the tavern and the loud sounds of conversation and clinking glasses was what welcomed me. I took it all in and smiled. I enjoyed this place.

"There ya are boy," Eron greeted me, his stained work uniform looking a little more ratty, even in just the few minutes I'd been gone. "Here ya go," he grunted, sliding a mug full to the brim of foaming beer. I sent him a nod in thanks and took a drink. Tasted just like the real thing.

My eyes flicked around to the patrons at the bar. Some of them I knew, some I didn't, and most I didn't want to. We were all Imps, connected by nothing but our species name, and yet somehow we had formed a bond with one another. I figured that it was amazing in its own respect that some of these people could be friends. I didn't know what they looked like in real life, but most likely most of them looked nothing like their avatar. Perhaps that pretty brunette would've never gone for that gruff looking warrior. In real life they could be an eight year old and an old fat man. No one knew, but it seemed they didn't care, as long as they could enjoy each other's company inside of this stuffy and crowded bar.

I took another drink and smiled to myself. I would miss this place, but not as much as others would if they had to leave. I hadn't made many friends here, simply because I didn't want to. And those that I _had _befriended, I didn't speak to much. Yes, that was the beauty of online gaming. They were friends without the actual commitment.

I sat at that dusty bar counter for what seemed like forever, sipping my drink and reminiscing about my time in this world quietly to myself as the people around me came and went. It was peaceful in its own respect, however that unspoken peace ended abruptly when a deafening crash echoed from outside the bar. The ground shook, my beer sloshing out of its glass as I tipped backward in my seat. I reached forward and grabbed onto the counter to steady myself. The others in the bar shouted out in what seemed like anger, and others shouted out in surprise.

I whirled around on my seat and through the small clouded window I could see a heap on the ground outside. The Imperial statue that we all looked up to was in pieces, the rubble scattered around for hundreds of feet. The statue that somehow had made its way into my heart had been destroyed, just in time for me to leave this game.

I sighed to myself in anger. Whoever the bastard that did this was, they were asking for it. One more fight before I left wouldn't be too bad. Maybe it'd be like a sending away present. I grinned to myself, rolling up on of my sleeves. Yes, whoever did that was definitely signing up for one hell of a fight with me.

* * *

**Pyknic: adjective; having a fat, rounded build or body structure.**

**Okay guys! My chapter's next, so be ready for some Yami craziness! Drop us a review telling us what you think! Thanks!**


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